


If Love Were Wise

by xspike4evax



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:17:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4653804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xspike4evax/pseuds/xspike4evax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willow has a surprise when she goes to Spike's crypt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Love Were Wise

**If Love Were Wise**

 

He was always there, letting her know with just one look; patient. Predatory. That he was biding his time.

The demon in him was always restless when Willow was around; riding him hard, demanding he do something to lay claim to her. The scent of her alone was enough to make him hard; and her power, when it brushed against him taunted the demon with what he could have.

He had been patient so far and Spike knew he had to stay that way. Willow was a nervous girl. If he made his move too soon and spooked her, she'd run and he might never get another chance. Such a sweet little thing she was. She had destroyed his defences without meaning to or even trying to; and all by being nice to him.

Spike had to laugh at himself. Drusilla had left him claiming he had gone soft and he vigorously denied it was so; but Willow rather proved him wrong.

Tapping the pen against his chin Spike considered before putting pen to paper:

_I yearn to be with you, my love,_

_you do not know me._

Forehead scrunched Spike paused, his eyes glazing over as he conjured Willow in his mind. The picture was the easy part, finding the words was hard. He knew what he wanted to say, but somehow whenever he tried to write them down they came out all wrong.

_I am the distance you put between all the moments where we can be_

Being a demon, a vampire, an evil vampire didn't help him much. He frightened her and Spike knew it, although he couldn't find it in himself to be completely sorry about that; fear added a special aroma to her scent. What with the moron and the Slayer around constantly making snide comments about him and provoking him into losing his temper; well, it was safe to say that lately, Willow hadn't seen the nicer side to him. She had seen him at his most vulnerable; twice. That had to work in his favour. Still she kept her distance from him. She was pleasant and polite to him, considerate to his newly acquired affliction, but she didn't encourage him to make advances of any kind.

Spike wasn't about to let that deter him. He'd wait and watch and when she was ready for him, he'd make his move.

Settling further into the corner of the battered sofa Spike continued with his writing and musing; although no-one had yet invented the perfect word for a girl like Willow. The knock when it came startled him. Spike sat up peering through the dark crypt as the door open and whispered voice floated to him.

"Spike, are you here?"

"Red?" Spike got to his feet, a little thrill washing over him at the sight of her in his home. She looked out of place of course, someone so good and pure standing there in the dirt and the dark; she deserved castles in the sky and he could only give her basements underground.

"Oh, you are here," Willow let out a sigh of relief. "Giles sent me. Are you busy?"

Spike stifled a growl. It was far too much to hope for that she had come to see him of her own accord, because she wanted to. "What's 'appened now?"

Willow's lips pursed. "I'm not too sure. There's a demon around and it's really hurt Buffy. She's not healing the way she usually does."

"Well now, aren't you the bearer of glad tidings."

She smiled in spite of herself. "Could you come and help us, Spike? I mean, if it doesn't put you out. If you're not busy."

He loved the way she treated him, it endeared her to him even more; she always behaved as though he mattered, as though he might have something interesting and important to say. She treated him like a man rather than a pest as the others did. "Seemin' as its you an' you asked so nicely, I'll go with you, pet."

She smiled and Spike's world brightened. "Thanks, Spike."

"Be right back, love."

He disappeared into the dark corner of the crypt and Willow perched on the sofa to wait for him. Her eyes fell on the little notebook and pen sitting in the spot next to her; her name peeking around the side of the pen. Automatically she picked it up, her hand trembling slightly as she read what were clearly private thoughts and not for her eyes or anyone else's.

_I yearn to be with you, my love,_

_you do not know me._

_I am the distance you put between all the moments we could be_

_I am the one who loves_

_I will surrender, a broken man_

_I ask you to hold me,_

_do not scorn me_

_And tell me I'm dead._

Her chest felt tight and Willow swallowed. Fingers tightening on the notebook she looked again at the two little words written neatly at the top of the page: _For Willow_

This had been written for her? More to the point, Spike had written this for her? Spike. Evil Big Bad Spike? It didn't make any sense. Willow couldn't recall Spike showing any signs of interest in her; apart from when he barged into her dorm room and very nearly killed her. Or very nearly turned her. Willow still wasn't sure which option Spike had intended to take and she had never felt the need to ask him; neither answer would make her feel comfortable.

Still she smiled, smoothing her hand over the page trying to picture Spike writing those words and failing. The image didn't fit with the Spike she thought she knew. She felt as though she had been caught before an oncoming train; she had no idea how to react or what to feel. Hugging the notebook to her chest Willow looked up, startled to see Spike standing a mere foot away, watching her. Her cheeks coloured, Willow was acutely aware she had no business snooping about in Spike's stuff and now he had caught her red handed.

A myriad of emotions crossed Willow's face; Spike was fascinated.

"I didn't know you were a writer," Willow blurted out, desperate to keep his anger at bay. Spike had a temper when the fancy took him and Willow really didn't want that anger aimed at her.

Spike shook his head. "Hardly a writer, pet. Just musing's is all." At least she hadn't laughed at him, ridiculed him, turned away from him.

"Is it really....? Did you really write it for...." she paused and looked down at the page again, her fingers touching lightly to the For Willow at the top. "... for me?"

There was no denying it, and at least now he'd know one way or the other. Spike nodded, unable to find his voice.

"It's lovely, Spike." She looked down at the poem again, a soft smile on her lips. "You're right, I don't really know you. You're a part of my life and have been for a long time, but I don't know you." She swallowed past her tight throat, she was feeling emotional all of a sudden.

His eyes met hers, a nervous tingling working its way over his skin. His voice almost cracked, so desperate was he for the answer. "And the rest?"

Putting the notebook down Willow went to him, reaching up on her tip toes she wrapped her arms around his neck. She spoke into his ear, her voice a fierce whisper. "You're not dead to me, Spike."

His lips met hers softly. Her eyes drifted shut, sensation taking over. He expertly guided them on a slow, sensual journey, using his lips and tongue, deepening the kiss until Willow's bones softened and her blood heated. Cradling her face in his hands Spike took in her flushed cheeks, her lips parted and her eyes closed. The demon in him roared to possess her; but he managed to control it. There would be time enough for all he wanted to do to her and with her; right now she needed gentle handling, he couldn't afford to make the wrong move and send her scurrying away to hide. If love were wise he wouldn't love her, wouldn't want her, wouldn't be willing to turn himself inside out for her; but love had never been wise, at least not where he was concerned.

"Willow. Willow. You consume me," Spike murmured between soft, closed mouth kisses against her lips. "I'm full of you. You're in my blood. I can be anything you want me to be; just name it, love."

Her eyes opened, hands touching to his, her fingers sliding between his. "Just be you, Spike. You're enough."


End file.
